12/07/2023 Bikepacking Mauritania Day 121 : Taking a Bicycle on the Iron Ore Train.

My first instinct was to get my own private ore bin; and easy option because the train is 2 miles long and there are not many people. Fortuitously, I changed my mind. I saw a guy with lots of stuff and thought I would help him load. If I needed help with the bike, maybe he could help me. He was friendly and spoke a little French. He was quite skinny and had tons of bags, and a broken refrigerator. He told me his name, and I tried to say it 3 times - and still forget. So from here on, he will be referred to as one-tooth - because he only had one visible tooth.

The multi-mile long train pulled to a stop, and before I knew it, one-tooth had lithely leapt into the bin. I began handing him packages, but in a moment, two more young men arrived. One got into the bin with one-tooth, and the other straddled the adjacent cars like a rock climbing stem-maneuver. A third person helped me hand up one-tooth’s packages. What the hell was all this stuff? Before departure, One-tooth sat crouched, shoveling dirt and sand into a bag. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was a crazy guy - portaging all these bags and detritus. You will soon learn that he wasn’t crazy: He was a professional.

After seeing images of the ore bins, I had mentally rehearsed the maneuver I would make to get my bike into the bin. Right arm over the top tube, grasping the down tube, I climbed up the first rung of the ladder. The plan had been to quickly grab the next bar with the free hand - relying on inertia to keep me from falling off, kind of hopping my way up. Real life was a little different than the rehearsal. For one thing, the weld was broken on one side of the second high-up hand rung. Would it hold? And the more important difference: in my visualization, I was the Incredible Hulk. In real life, I was the Incredible Idiot who still thinks he is in his 20s. I jumped back down with my bike and instead pushed it up towards the young guy who was straddling the two cars. The strength of this young man was humbling; he easily lifted it from my hands at a back-breaking angle and hoisted it over the rim of the bin. The guys inside grabbed it and it disappeared from sight. “Well, that is done,” I thought as I started handing up more bags of what appeared to be garbage. Next, we teamed up awkwardly with the broken refrigerator, my arm going into one guys’ crotch.

Once everything was inside, I walked to greet my new bin-mates. The other 3 guys were Mohammed, Mohammed, and Mohammed. They reluctantly shook my hand as I went from person to person to introduce myself. Were they messing with me about their names? Maybe, because I later heard One-Tooth call one of the guys Hasan.

One-tooth already knew a little about me because we had talked a bit in French before boarding. I could hear him telling the 3 Mohammed’s that I was American. But I don’t think they were too interested. For them, this was a different kind of journey; more of a routine than an adventure.

This trip has been good for me. Normally I am pretty reserved, but when you’re inside an ore bin with four other guys - about to share the same pee corner, and one of them is barefoot… you think “what have I got to lose by trying to talk to these guys?”

But these are hard men. Every time they ride this train, they give up a part of their body breathing this dust. Some work in the ore mine so we can have things like cars and (if you still think “steel is real”), bicycle frames. They take the train to visit family in Nouadhibou, then go back to work or little huts in the bush. After having been to Nouadhibou, though, I question if maybe they prefer being in the mine.

One-tooth kept busy for most of the time. First, he took the bag of dirt he prepared and made flat piles of dirt in two of the corners. One became the pee corner. The other was his cooking cubby, where he set about building a coal fire. I’m not so good at starting fires in easy conditions, so I was impressed when he got a fire going in whirling 38 MPH winds.

He cut up meat, vegetables and boiled water. He invited me to sit on one of his bags of clothing for comfort. They offered me tea, and later on, food. The cooking process took nearly 3 hours, and One-tooth was constantly occupied tending to this-and-that. We hadn’t been talking much, and when they drank their tea, it was expeditious. If this had been a place for socialization, I would have shot the extra insulin for the sake of the camaraderie. Even though they had dour expressions, they waved at the passengers sitting atop the ore when a train came by in the opposite direction. They would flicker their flashlights at the occasional huts we passed in the night; the people outside the huts would reciprocate.

Nobody washed their blackened hands to eat, but as the sun set, they all oddly got together to wash hands around a bowl. Next thing I knew, they were all praying in a rhythm of up and down bowing and standing.

One thing I hadn’t prepared for was practicing how to wrap a headscarf. It looks easy but it isn’t! Especially with a 38mph wind. If I had to do one more thing to prepare for this trip, it would have been to learn that. I still don’t know how to do it well.

As you know from my previous post, this was something that I had been dreading quite a bit. The people on YouTube who made this out to be so extreme… well, I think they exaggerated a bit - or maybe they happened to have a rough experience? My train departed and arrived precisely when expected. That easily beats out Amtrak in the USA.

As the land took a golden hue, I began to tear up, swamped with emotion - I couldn’t believe I almost didn’t do this! Writing to guys trying to get a truck to drive me - senselessly burning additional fossil fuels so I could be comfortable? Now, I was riding through a place of daydreams, song lyrics, and movies. Combining that sense of beatitude with the feelings of relief about my worries sent me down a path of deep emotion. This trip is fricking awesome.

NOTES FOR CYCLISTS CONSIDERING TAKING THE IRON ORE TRAIN WITH A BICYCLE IN MAURITANIA

Since I’m now mirroring my strava posts on my blog, I thought I would give some tips on bringing a bicycle on the iron Ore train in Mauritania.

1. Tie a 1 or 2 meter rope around your head tube. This will aid on the raising and lowering process of the bike.
2. Consider practicing tying a headscarf. The locals did not have any protection, but some had bad coughs - before even boarding. Be sure to bring something to protect your lungs.
3. I bought throw away clothing, but the ore did wash off clothes easily (I donated them to the auberge in Choum for the next people). Contrary to the internet hype, it rinses right out.
4. Electronics, on the other hand should be protected. My camera is having lots of trouble - causing me to miss some great shots. Also, my diabetes meter and stabber are in dire straits.
5. I strongly recommend teaming up with a local who looks experienced. Better yet, find someone who you can help load their stuff. They will help you in return with your bike. Also, even if it isn’t a socializing environment, I think it will be more friendly with others.
6. Solo female travelers: If you’re uncomfortable being in a bin with only men, I saw at least two (accompanied) women board the bins.
7. Do not let the internet descriptions of this being “hard core” scare you away. If you have come from Western Sahara on your bike with winds (and wild camped with said winds), it’s like that, except you don’t have to pedal. It’s not the extreme trip that some people make it out to be.